


Forfeits

by tetsubinatu



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsubinatu/pseuds/tetsubinatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was my attempt at a Period version of ‘Truth or Dare’. <a href="http://www.childrenparty.com/partygames/printversion/forfeits.html">Here’s</a> where I got the game from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cara Mia

"Heavy, heavy hangs over thy head.  
What shall the owner do to redeem the forfeit?" Gwen chanted, holding the forfeit item over Morgana’s head.

It was Merlin’s boot in Gwen’s hand, but he desperately tried to keep his face impassive. Morgana always chose the _worst_ forfeits! If she knew it was his she would tailor it specifically to humiliate him.

A wicked grin spread over Morgana’s face and all three men on the bed winced. Gwen wasn’t in a position to see Morgana’s face but Arthur and Lancelot fully appreciated that it was only the luck of the draw that had selected Merlin for whatever dread fate Morgana had thought up this time.

Arthur took a swig of the rotgut they had been passing around all night and handed the flask to Lance. Clearly appreciating Merlin’s need of it, Lance took only a couple of quick gulps before passing it to Merlin.

Merlin had stopped coughing at the burn of the stuff at least an hour ago. It went down easily, leaving a comfortable warmth in his belly.

“Using whatever props are to hand, re-enact the loss of your virginity.” Morgana intoned. “With special attention to sound effects!”

Oh that was low. Reeeeeeally low.

Merlin considered forfeiting. Did he really _need_ two boots? Besides, Gwen would get it back to him by tomorrow. Probably.

“Go on Merlin...” Arthur goaded. “Show us! You do have something to show, don’t you?”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “Oh is it Merlin’s? Excellent!”

“Do you need any props?” Gwen giggled.

“Just a girl and a wall,” he growled, dropping his head to the coverlet. He didn’t want to see their expressions. Why was he playing this stupid game again? Stupid snowstorm, locking them all inside the castle with nothing to do until they went mad. Stupid drinking games. Stupid, stupid.

Too cold to be without a boot, though, even for a day.

“Very well: come on, Morgana,” he said, slipping off the side of the bed. Her face was incredulous, her eyes slipping sideways to Gwen with an expression of what looked like guilt.

“This was your idea. I’m not making Gwen to do this. Unless you want to change the forfeit?” he said challengingly.

That seemed to stiffen Morgana’s spine, and she smiled that wicked grin again.

“Delighted I’m sure,” she said. “How do you want me? Do set the scene.”

He sighed. It was going to be humiliating, but they were all his friends. And. And he’d actually quite like to get some of the weight off his shoulders. Not that any of them would have the slightest clue...

“The scene is a storeroom in the guest chambers,” he began slowly. “A pretty girl is flattering me, asking for my help.”

Lined up on the bed like a row of starlings on a fence-rail Arthur, Lance and Gwen nodded in unison. Merlin leaned over to whisper Morgana’s lines into her ear.

“Oh Merlin!” she simpered, positioning herself against the wall “Could you reach all the way up high and fetch me that basket?”

Merlin mimed stretching up to reach over Morgana’s head, fetching down an imaginary basket. She smiled at him, running proprietary hands over his arms. “Thank you. You’re so tall and strong.”

Behind him, Arthur guffawed, and Merlin tried not to feel hurt. She really had been almost that obvious, and he really had been that much of an idiot.

“You’re welcome,” he said dully, and Morgana slid her hands under his tunic. “Mmm. I like you, Merlin.”

“I like you too, Cara,” he replied. Behind him he heard a gasp. Someone, probably Gwen, had realised who the girl was - how he had been used. Merlin suddenly felt his face pulled down and he looked into Morgana’s angry eyes. She had realised too.

“You’re wonderful, Merlin,” she said, and he could feel her trying to convey her sincerity through the scripted line. He leaned forward to kiss her, but it wasn’t at all like kissing _her_. Morgana was kissing him like he mattered, as if he was more than just a servant.

She pulled back a little, saying quietly into his chin, “Are you right to go on?” and he nodded. Might as well.

“Um, she unlaced my breeches and used her hand but you don’t have to do that,” he said resignedly. Morgana’s head tilted like a hunting hawk and her fingers began working at his breeches. He choked. When her small, cold hand found his cock he gasped at the shock of it and his head dropped back to allow more air to his gasping lungs, his breeches dropping unnoticed to pool around his ankles.

“Merlin,” she said, slowing stroking. “What happened next?”

“I... I...” He couldn’t find the words. Greatly daring, watching to be sure that she was allowing this, he inched her skirts up until his hands were underneath, his fingers finding their way to her soft bush, those damp, enticing folds. She shivered in his arms.

“You mustn’t come in me, Merlin,” she warned, but she was guiding his cock inside, and then he was sheathed in her - his second time.

 _oh god..._

She wrapped her legs around his back, just above his bare arse. There might have been a choked cry from behind him but he didn’t really notice. Her back was against the wall, and her wide hips were in his hands. Her eager whimpers in his ear were erasing Cara’s - Nimue’s - practiced sighs as her hands scrabbled to hold him closer.

He mustn’t come in her. At all costs, he must retain that much control. She was trusting him.

He stilled his hips with an effort of will and freed one hand to grind against that soft bump Cara had shown him, and when she went soft in his arms and then cried out and convulsed around him he had barely enough time to pull out, easing her swift descent to the floor with his arms, before the folds of her skirt caught the full load of his release.

He was on his knees on the rushes of her bedroom floor, and she was soft and sated in his arms. Her eyes opened and her wicked grin reappeared.

“Ooh that was a _good_ forfeit,” she breathed and he started to laugh.


	2. Cara Mia (Morgana's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is partner to the previous one and runs concurrently with it, but from Morgana's POV

When Merlin said, “Cara,” the word dropping like a stone from his flattened lips, Morgana felt something deep and strong well up in her. That BITCH!

Morgana knew what young men were like - none better - and Merlin was one of the sweetest she had known. It didn’t surprise her that he was relatively inexperienced, because he wasn’t the sort to seek out casual liaisons.

Morgana didn’t think of herself as a kind person - she knew she had a streak of savagery in her - but what Nimue had done to Merlin was a level of cruelty that Morgana had never imagined. Nimue had deliberately cemented Merlin’s trust in her by sexually preying on him - all the while planning to abuse that trust by sending him as a sacrificial lamb to his death, a protracted, painful death which should have brought Camelot to ruinous war with Mercia.

Now that she knew its context the line she had to say was a mockery but she gave it to him with as much honest feeling as she could muster. “You’re wonderful, Merlin.”

Behind the dullness of his eyes there was a spark that showed that he had understood her as he leaned forward to peck her on the lips. She wasn’t letting that bitch be the last person to taste those full, generous lips of his, and she leaned into them with enthusiasm. He tasted like alcohol and strawberries, although there hadn’t been strawberries for months.

“Are you right to go on?” she asked. He seemed unaware that he was trembling under her hands.

He nodded with that blank, uncaring expression that was so unlike his normal intent engagement with every facet of life, and she knew that she was going all the way with this. She took him in hand - just as the bitch had done, working at his manhood with her small skill.

“Merlin,” she said, drawing his eyes back to her face, “What happened next?”

His mouth worked, finding no words that he could say to her, but his hands fumbled at her robe, drawing her skirts up inch by inch. Past his elbow she was aware that Arthur had stirred, as if to stop what was happening, but she shot him a glare which promised a life of unending misery and torment if he should complete the move. Gwen took his hand in hers, and Arthur looked at her with complete surprise. She whispered something and he settled back an inch, but every line of his body screamed his discomfort with the situation. Gwen, on the other hand - Morgana took particular note - was fascinated. Her lips slightly parted as she watched. Morgana couldn’t see Lancelot.

Merlin’s hands were warm and tender on her thighs, moving unerringly towards her center. Was this something the bitch had taught him, or had there been other unconsummated fumblings before she got her hands on him? Morgana liked to think that some village maiden had found pleasure with Merlin in a haystack before he ever encountered the bitch.

He was stroking her lightly, one finger caressing her slit with gentle pressure until it eased gently inside her. She shifted to let him in and he pressed in deeper, finding every sensual nerve she had ever stimulated while she was alone with her fantasies in her bedchamber. She let out a little sigh and trembled, finding enough resolution to warn him.

“You mustn’t come in me, Merlin”

He gulped soundlessly as she pressed closer, helping him lift her and position her until at last he slid inside.

She’d done this once before, with a young man who had been a squire of her father’s. When he came to Camelot she had treated him as an old friend, and they’d spent hours reminiscing of the time before her father died. When he pressed himself against her she had wondered, and let him, but it really hadn’t been all that exciting - certainly not worth the risks. He’d wanted to marry her, but she had realised that the marriage, and her dowry, had been his real goal after all, and she had had a great deal of difficulty in getting rid of him in the end. Arthur had helped.

This was much, much better. Merlin was touching her with reverence, his hand rolling and pressing even as she felt him go still inside her body. She was filled with him, and surrounded by him and her pleasure was building at her center until with a choked cry it was spilling over her through every part of her body and out of her and she was falling.

Literally falling, but held safe in Merlin’s embrace as he shuddered and spilled his seed into her skirts.

So _that_ was why the game was worth the candle. She laughed for joy and opened her eyes.

Merlin was looking back at her, his eyes full of affection and gratitude.

“Ooh that was a _good_ forfeit,” she gloated happily, and her reward was the sound of his carefree laughter.

At Merlin’s back, her foster-brother’s face was a thundercloud promising retribution, but Gwen had managed to keep him from interfering and she had never let Arthur’s opinion hold her back. With one last kiss for Merlin she stood up and let Gwen fuss over wiping her skirts clean.

“We still have some more forfeits,” she reminded her friends, seizing the flask of spirit from Lancelot and downing a good mouthful. “Who wants to be the judge this time?”


	3. Truth and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur admires his companions.

"Heavy, heavy hangs over thy head.  
What shall the owner do to redeem the forfeit?"

Morgana was dangling an object over Lancelot's head, but Merlin didn't care. It wouldn't be his because he had already redeemed his forfeit. He lay sprawled over Morgana's pillows, his relaxed attitude a marked contrast to Gwen and Arthur's wary attempts to see what was in Morgana's hand.

Morgana's dangling sleeve was obscuring their view, and Merlin was well aware that she was doing it on purpose.

'I declare that the owner must tell each of us the thing that he or she admires most about us," Lancelot declared, to Morgana's groan. He looked up at her glare and added hastily, "and kiss each person as that person commands."

Reluctantly Morgana opened her hand and moved it into sight. It contained a small brooch in the shape of a red enamelled dragon.

Arthur sighed and covered his face with his hands as Gwen clapped her hands with delight.

"So," Morgana said cheerfully. "What do you _admire_ most about me, Arthur?"

"Right now, nothing," Arthur replied with grim intensity.

Morgana raised her chin with a sniff. "Well then, how about Gwen?"

"I admire her loyalty to a person who doesn't deserve it."

Gwen quietly stood up and moved to stand next to Morgana. The two women moved around the bed to sit on the opposite side to Arthur and everyone glared at him. Only Lancelot escaped his disapproval for the events of the last forfeit, and only Lancelot was brave enough to openly reprove him.

"That was unkind, Your Highness. Shall we discontinue the game until you regain your good temper?"

Arthur's scowl deepened. There was nothing else to do, and no-one else in the castle he could be drinking with this evening. He had a clear choice between sulking alone in his chambers and deciding to continue with the game. He chose the game.

"Sorry Gwen."

It escaped no-one's attention that he hadn't apologised to Morgana, but by general agreement they let it slide.

"Lancelot, I admire your dedication to the chivalric code," Arthur said, starting with the easiest of his tasks. Lancelot gave him a smile of forgiveness and offered his cheek for the kiss of a brother knight. Arthur gave it heartily and seemed to relax a little at the simple acceptance of his words.

"Gwen," he said, "I admire you for remaining so pleasant when the rest of us bitch and moan and complain. You always find the bright side for us." He walked around the bed to offer her a bow, and she gave him her hand.

He smiled up at her as he bent low to drop a light kiss on her knuckles and her eyes softened as they rested on him, although her face remained solemn.

Morgana was sitting next to her, and his eyes rested on her a long time. "I have always admired your strength of will," he said slowly. "It frustrates me beyond reason, but I admire it."

She nodded her head to him as one equal to another and offered him a slim hand to kiss. He held it respectfully before bending to kiss the air above it in courtly fashion.

Merlin pulled himself uncomfortably up against a bedpost as Arthur approached him. "I admire your ability to keep a secret," Arthur said baldly.

Merlin barely stopped himself from gasping, staring petrified at the prince. Arthur leaned in and kissed his cheek. "But not your lack of trust in me."

Merlin's eyes followed him as he returned to his previous seat.

"Who's next?" Arthur asked, jaw set as if he had come from battle.

It felt rather like that to the rest of them, too.


	4. Principles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur and Morgana butt heads.

Arthur was the next judge and his eyes swept the room appraisingly.

"Tell us," he said in a chillingly mild voice, "The one thing that you have done that you are most ashamed of, and the thing you are most proud of."

His eyes alighted on Morgana and she knew that he was hoping that the forfeit Merlin was holding above his head was hers. Unfortunately, he was right. She leaned forward and accepted her girdle from Merlin's hand.

"I'm going to start with the thing I am most proud of," she said quietly. "I'm proud that I have always honoured the memory of my father by treading my own path as he taught me.

"None of you knew him," she said, leaning back into Gwen's comforting arms. "But oddly enough, Arthur, your father reminded me of him not so long ago. He said that my father would always give him an honest opinion. It's not really something I would have thought Uther would appreciate, but perhaps if my father had lived... Perhaps he could hear things from my father which he wouldn't hear from other people."

She was silent for a minute, thinking. "Anyway, he taught me that honour doesn't lie in empty words or show. 'A man can look good on the field,' he said, 'and be rotten to the core.' He said that honour was about being true to oneself and to one's principles. I know that I can be sharp and bitter, but I have always done my best to hold by the principles of honour that my father taught me. And I am proud of that."

Lancelot was looking at her as if she were wreathed in clouds of glory, and Gwen's forehead was pressed into Morgana's hair to hide her face.

Morgana looked at Arthur. His eyes had dropped to his clenched fists.

"Did he not teach you about propriety and modesty?" he asked, and she could not tell whether he spoke in anger or resignation, but her answer was simple.

"No. Honesty is what he taught me. Brutal honesty if necessary."

Arthur nodded, and this time the set of his shoulders showed a lessening of his tension. When he looked up his face was peaceful. "Well you are who you are," he said.

Her eyebrows lifted arrogantly. "And you're a tolerable foster-brother at times."

He shrugged, but his mouth was gentle.

"The thing I am most ashamed of," she continued, "is that I worked with Tauren behind Uther's back. That was a betrayal of my principles, and done out of anger. Anger is the weakness I have to fight the most."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Tauren?"

Merlin leapt to his feet. "I'd like to be the next judge," he said quickly. "Arthur, you can choose the forfeit for me!"


	5. Laughter and Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gwen is unusually agreeable.

Merlin sat up straighter, waiting for Arthur to say the words:

"Heavy, heavy hangs over thy head.  
What shall the owner do to redeem the forfeit?"

Merlin had seldom heard the prince's voice so uninflected.

Normally, Arthur's voice carried a boundless wealth of information - weariness, sarcasm, affection and frustration - all were in his voice for those who knew him best. Tonight he sounded as if he had been carried too far past his boundaries. Morgana did have a habit of doing that to him, but Merlin didn't _think_ that that was what Morgana had been doing this evening.

Had she?

No, she had been thinking about _Merlin_ , not Arthur. Merlin was pretty sure.

"Merlin!" The prince's voice was irritated.

Oh yes, the game...

Merlin hastily summoned a task to mind, remembering childhood games of forfeits in Old Scrabner's barn. "Answer 'yes' to every question we ask you," he said, more or less at random.

Gwen dimpled at him and took her handkerchief from Arthur. Evidently she thought she was getting off easily.

Morgana rolled her eyes at the childishness of the task, then began to smirk. "Gwen, do you have a crush on Merlin?" she asked in a honeyed tone.

Gwen's narrowed eyes promised retribution, but... "Yes," she said with a false smile.

Merlin had always enjoyed this particular forfeits task. It could be a lot fo fun. "Do you think that Arthur is a giant prat?" he contributed. He reached for the flask, but Lancelot held it upside down with a sad face. Clearly it was empty.

Now Gwen cast an anguished look at the prince but she answered the question steadfastly, "Yes."

Arthur glared at Merlin and retaliated in kind. "Do you think that Merlin has a severe mental affliction?"

"Yes."

"And is it true that Morgana does giant farts if she eats beans?"

Gwen giggled, "Yes."

Morgana threw herself at Arthur and swung a pillow at his head. "I take it all back! You're a rotten little promise-breaking sneak of a foster-brother!" she yelled as she connected.

Arthur tried to wriggle away from her without falling off the bed. "I only _asked_ ," he gasped through his snorts of laughter.

Merlin and Lancelot considered this quite plausible explanation for Morgana's refusal to touch legume dishes and decided never to mention the subject again.

"Do you dream of wedding Egbert in the spring?" Merlin asked hastily.

Egbert was the spotty kitchen-boy who wiped his nose on his sleeve. Gwen gritted her teeth and duly answered, "Yes," but taking her lead from Morgana she also seized a cushion from the floor and firmly whacked Merlin with it.

The questions deteriorated as Gwen agreed, groaning and rolling her eyes, to dye her hair blue, to sing a ribald ballad at the next feast, to the proposition that Lancelot would make a pretty maiden and a number of other ridiculous and improbable suggestions. By the time they were piled in a heap on the bed laughing too hard to continue Gwen seized the last forfeit and without bothering with the formality of the rhyme announced, "No more! It's my turn!"

"Lancelot, tell us why you would choose to kiss each person in the room and then give one person a proper, full-on snog."

Lancelot extracted himself from between Merlin and Morgana and bowed politely. His hair was standing up on one side, but his demeanour was unruffled. Sometimes Merlin thought that perhaps Lancelot could afford to be a _little_ less perfect. It was hard on his friends.

"As you command," said the perfect knight. His eyes roamed over the pile of laughing friends on the bed, singling each out for a smile and a bow as he mentioned them.

"I would kiss Merlin for saving my life and the Lady Morgana for the principles which lead her to regard nobles and commoners alike as individuals. I would kiss Prince Arthur for his chivalry and Mistress Gwen for her sweetness. I would kiss any of you for your beauty, for you are all uncommonly good to look upon. But if I must choose just one," he turned to Gwen, "it would be you. May I?"

Gwen clambered off the bed and lifted her face to his, returning to him the small gold ring which was his forfeit. He smiled at her and lowered his face to kiss her as his hands gently smoothed her hair out of her face. The three on the bed could not hear what he said as he murmured low and pressed his lips to hers.

Merlin looked away. Gwen might have taken this light-heartedly, but every line of Lancelot's body screamed of his utter devotion to the kiss he was giving her. Morgana was watching them contemplatively, but Arthur's eyes met Merlin's.

"Did you want him to choose you?" Arthur asked quietly.

"Perhaps a little - he's very pretty - but not really. I think he's serious about Gwen, though." Merlin answered just as quietly, shifting until his shoulder touched Arthur's.

Arthur's grin lit his eyes. "Good." He rested a hand on Merlin's shoulder, asking with serious mien, "Are you alright? What Morgana did to you was out of line, and I should have..."

Merlin wasn't sure what exactly Arthur was thinking. That Morgana's task had been too cruel? She hadn't known about Cara. That she shouldn't have fucked a servant? (Well, of course she shouldn't, but...) That he was some kind of perpetual victim... with Nimue and Morgana _taking advantage_ of him? It was too confusing.

"I'm alright," he said brusquely.


	6. Looking for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which various persons discuss their loss of virginity.

The flask of spirits was empty, the forfeits were finished. As Lancelot and Gwen joined them back on the bed there was an awkward pause.

“More forfeits?” Morgana asked, but no-one seemed eager to take up the suggestion. No-one moved, though, either. Lancelot was leaning against the headboard with Gwen’s head on his shoulder and Morgana on her other side. Arthur and Merlin were seated at the foot of the bed, Arthur cross legged and Merlin with his feet curled under him, toes pointing away from Arthur. Outside the wind howled, sending flurries of snow to beat at the windows.

Merlin noticed that the fire was dying down and slipped off the bed to add another log.

When he rejoined them he curled up sideways on the bed. Gwen tossed him a small embroidered cushion and he turned it to place the embroidered side down before using it as a pillow.

Much better.

“So how about the rest of you,” he asked, before he had time to lose his courage. “How did you lose _your_ virginities?”

There was no forfeit, but he wanted to know. In some way he felt that they needed to tell him, too - to balance that too-intimate moment he had shared with them.

“I’m still a virgin,” Gwen confessed, and Merlin smiled at her. Morgana’s head turned sharply to make sure that no-one was going to make a joke out of that, but none of them would hurt Gwen.

“Sensible girl,” Arthur said. “I lost mine at fourteen to a chambermaid named Hilla. I didn’t find out for years that the King told her to do it.”

Everyone looked at him, trying to gauge what he thought about that, but only Morgana asked. “Did that make a difference?”

“Well I was rather confused at the time. I’d been reading the sort of romances that appeal to a boy of that age - quests and miracles and knights dedicated to God and Chivalry, you know the sort - and rather fancied that I was going to remain pure and dedicated to the good of Camelot. It was a bit of a shock to end up flat on my back under Hilla. A couple of rounds with her and I was cured of celibacy, but it wasn’t until I found her in bed with Sir Osric that I was cured of romance.”

It was almost as sad a tale as Merlin’s own he thought. Perhaps sadder. Merlin had been a few years older than fourteen when Nimue had caught him.

Morgana’s lips curled as she nodded. “Fourteen. The summer we were fourteen was when you left me, really.”

Arthur frowned at her, confused.

“Until then we were friends. You would come to my rooms to read, and share secrets with me. You let me practice swordwork with you and laughed at my awful embroidery. And then suddenly - you were gone. And the only way I could get your attention...”

She stopped suddenly, but they all understood. She could get his attention by behaving badly.

“My life got smaller,” she said wistfully. “And yours widened to the borders of Camelot and beyond. I hated you _so much_ for not taking me with you.”

“I couldn’t Morgi,” Arthur said. “You know I couldn’t.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t call me that. And I didn’t care whether you could or not. You just should have anyway.”

The twist of her lips was self-mocking. Arthur leaned forward and crawled across the bed to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t, Morgi.”

She rolled her eyes. “Call me that again and I’ll tell them what you did when you were twelve.”

Arthur rolled his eyes back at her mockingly, however he didn’t say any more but settled back next to Merlin.

“What did you do when you were twelve?” Merlin asked him, as manly honour required, but he was satisfied to receive a snort and an upraised finger from his liege.

“There was a girl,” Lancelot said unexpectedly, “in my village. We were betrothed and we slept together. Her name was Ealhwyn. She died with the rest of my village.” He looked at Gwen. “I loved her because I grew up with her and I was destined to marry her, but then my destiny changed.”

Gwen’s eyes were dark pools as she took his hand and pressed it gently.

“And that leaves me,” Morgana said. “I made a fool of myself for a man who was after my dowry. It was an unpleasant experience all around, and I pity the woman he marries - even to woo me he couldn’t take enough care in bed to give me enjoyment. Merlin’s wife, on the other hand, will be a fortunate woman.”

Merlin bit his lip and looked at the bed. The sense-memory of Morgana shuddering in his arms rolled over him like a wave. He swallowed and hoped that no-one was looking at him.

“That’s three of us who were tricked into bed, one sensible virgin and one for love. Do you think that’s a normal sort of reckoning, or did the three of us just get unlucky?” Arthur asked.

“If you and Morgana can’t find love, what hope have the rest of us got?” Merlin replied cynically.

Morgana shook her head. “Court isn’t the place to look for love, though,” she protested. “I would think it would be better for most people.”

Gwen and Merlin both shook their heads at that. “When you’re scared that you’ll starve the next winter there’s no love, just people doing what they have to do. And when you’re poor and unimportant there’s always some richer bastard ready to take what’s yours,” Merlin said. “Don’t go looking for love in villages. There’s no time for it.”

Morgana shrugged one narrow shoulder. “Maybe we _are_ normal then.”

Gwen’s soft gaze ranged over her friends as she answered. “Maybe we are.”


	7. Dreams and Visions

Merlin just closed his eyes for a minute, but he must have drifted off for a while because when he woke again Gwen and Lancelot were gone. The soft murmur of Morgana and Arthur’s voices sounded amicable, though, and the occasional sharp note felt familiar but not threatening. He didn’t really surface enough for the individual words to make sense until he heard his own name.

Arthur had said ‘Merlin’.

The stream of sound began to coalesce into individual words.

“He’s not your private property. One day he’ll want to marry and raise a family.”

Arthur sounded petulant. “Lots of servants never marry, or not until they are older at least. And besides...”

Morgana rushed past his objections, “I thought you cared for him. It sounds like you don’t want him to have a life of his own.”

“He _said_ he would serve me until the day he died!”

There was a pause before Morgana’s voice said bitterly, “And you want that for him?”

Merlin opened his eyes. Somehow while he was asleep he had rolled into the middle of the bed and Morgana and Arthur were on either side of him. He was facing Morgana and he could feel Arthur’s hand warm on his head.

“ s’true,” Merlin said sleepily. “Happy to serve him until the day I die.” The hand in his hair stilled its slow stroking.

Morgana frowned down at him, her lips parted to argue.

“You know it’s true,” Merlin said. “You’ve seen it in your dreams.”

“But you deserve _more_ ,” Morgana argued. “I only ever see battles and deathbeds, and you’re always there. I never see happiness for either of you.”

“Morgana’s dreams?” Arthur’s hand suddenly left Merlin’s head, which felt cold without it. But Merlin rushed on, heedless of the loss.

“But do you ever see happiness at all? It sounds as if your visions are always of the bad things that might happen. That doesn’t mean that good things don’t happen in between.”

Morgana looked as if she had been given something to think about.

“And sometimes we can even change the bad things. Arthur didn’t die from the Questing Beast, did he?” Merlin added, sitting up and moving to the side of the bed.

Once again, Arthur tried to interrupt. “Visions? Are you saying that Morgana is practicing Magic?”

Morgana and Merlin both stiffened as they realised where their discussion had taken them.

“She’s not doing it on purpose,” Merlin said, swinging around to face Arthur at last. He was leaning back from them as if they might have some kind of contagious disease. “It’s more that Magic is using her, really.”

“And you’re an expert,” Arthur said warily.

Merlin lost his temper. “Have you bloody _seen_ her in these awful dreams of hers? You have! I know you have! Do you think she _likes_ having dreams of people being ripped apart by monsters? Did she look happy to _you_ when she was begging you not to go and get killed by the Questing Beast?”

Morgana put a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head to look at her.

“Magic is using me?”

“Well,” he faltered, suddenly realising that no-one had ever told her that what she saw was actually magic. Dreams - they had always been just bad dreams. The last of his drowsiness burned away to leave him with the realisation of what he had done.

He’d told the Crown Prince of Camelot and his foster-sister that she was doing Magic.

He started to shake. Morgana’s eyes were still levelled on his, and she deserved an answer. There was no way back now, the only way was forwards.

“Did you ever brew a potion or do a spell?”

“No, of course not,” she said, drawing her slight body up straight and glancing at Arthur.

“So you aren’t doing magic, are you? But if your dreams are true dreams - and I think they are - then the magic is coming to you anyway. It’s not your fault,” he hastened to add.

She swallowed hard, thinking. “I’ve thought... that maybe I was going mad.”

“Dreaming true dreams of horror every night, and no-one believing them,” Merlin began.

“That would send anyone mad,” Arthur finished. Merlin and Morgana both swung their heads around to look at him. His eyes glistened and his mouth was unnaturally straight. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand, Morgi.”

Her laugh was half a sob. “Don’t call me that!” she whispered.

Slowly Arthur crawled across the bed and sat beside her, putting his arms around her and drawing her close. “Maybe we can fix it?”

With that she relaxed into him with a deep sigh. “Nothing fixes it,” she said with bone-deep weariness. “Gaius has been trying for years.”

“But maybe he didn’t know it was magic...” Arthur’s voice trailed off. He turned to Merlin. “Gaius knew it was magic, didn’t he?”

Silence would be taken as agreement. Merlin licked his lips. “He was worried that it could be, but he was afraid for Morgana. The king...”

He didn’t need to say more.

“He’s done all he can do, Morgana. Really he has.”

“And the draughts?” Arthur asked.

“They aid sleep and calmness. They can’t counteract the visions.”

“Gaius really trusts you, doesn’t he?” Morgana said thoughtfully.

Merlin winced. Gaius was going to kill him. But on the other hand, Morgana deserved to know that she wasn’t going mad. Merlin thought he had probably done the right thing. He didn’t have to tell Gaius that he'd done it because he was drunk and sleepy.

“We’ll see,” he said.


	8. What May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game is over and there are serious matters to discuss.

"Arthur?" Merlin wondered.

The prince turned his face to look at him, his arms still around Morgana.

"Why did you say that you admire my ability to keep a secret?"

Arthur shrugged but Merlin kept his gaze fixed on him and eventually he said quietly. "You don't trust me very much, do you?" He swallowed before adding, "You never told me what that girl did to you, and it must have hurt. A lot. And now I know that you've been keeping secrets about Morgana too. I didn't realise how much you don't tell me."

It was a fair accusation, Merlin knew. He hadn't understood that Arthur would be _hurt_ by it, though. Arthur's chin was up and his face was shuttered tight, but Merlin knew the tilt of his lips, the tension in his shoulders.

"Morgana's secret wasn't really mine to tell," he offered. "It was just a... a guess of Gaius's. And not the sort of guess that could be shared around."

Arthur's shoulders relaxed a little. "True," he conceded.

"Will Gaius be angry that you've said anything?" Morgana asked, frowning. "How certain are you both, really?"

"I'm fairly sure," he said, "He... I don't think he ever meant to burden you with this."

Morgana's lips tightened and she began to straighten as she said, "I'm not a child. And I'm the one who's going to end up with my head on the block if Uther finds out."

"I won't let that happen," Arthur contradicted as she pulled away and settled opposite him.

"Arthur, he's the _king_ ," Morgana almost whispered. "He can do whatever he wants."

Arthur took both her hands in his, his face solemn as a vow. "I swear to you, Morgana. Whatever it takes, I won't let that happen." For a moment their faces reflected something that made them look as similar as blood-kin. Merlin knew that this moment alone was worth whatever Gaius said or did about his carelessness.

Morgana gave a quick, firm nod. "I'll stay for you, then."

Arthur looked blank, as if the alternative was incomprehensible. "Where would you go?"

"Mordred's people would take me in, I'm sure. And my father's people speak to me sometimes. They ask when I am coming back with a new Lord."

Arthur nodded. This at least was known to him. Gorlois' lands had been administered directly by the crown since his death and every year since Morgana had turned fourteen an extremely polite and deferential delegation had arrived to ask when she would return.

"You couldn't go there if... _that_ happened, though. If they took you in when the King was pursuing you it would mean their ruin."

"We could lay a trail in a different direction and then she could hide among them until... things changed," Merlin volunteered.

"Things _changed_?!" Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously. "You can't seriously think that my father would change his mind on the subject of _magic_!"

Merlin and Morgana exchanged uncertain looks. "No," Morgana ventured. "Nothing will change while Uther is king."

Arthur went white as their meaning finally registered. "When he dies. That's what you mean. You would be waiting for my father to die."

Merlin had the urge to run. Instead he took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "We're not talking about _causing_ his death." He carefully didn't look at Morgana as he continued. "All men die, Arthur. Why did they name you Crown Prince if it wasn't to secure the succession for when that day comes?"

The colour was returning to Arthur's face as he reluctantly nodded.

" _If_ Morgana had to leave Camelot because of... this... and _if_ she had to hide from King Uther... Well, she couldn't return while he was king, could she? But if you were king she could. That's all I'm saying."

"What you are saying is perilously close to treason." Arthur was sitting as straight as an arrow. "And I will hear no more of it."

Once more Morgana and Merlin exchanged glances. "Yes, sire," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur held Morgana's eyes for a minute until her chin lowered. "For you, Arthur," she said.


	9. One Last Secret to Tell

There was no alcohol left in anyone's veins at this point. The night's foolishness and laughter had burned away to leave them exposed and fragile. When Gwen knocked on the door, looking happy and only a little rumpled the two young men excused themselves.

"I'm going to tell her," Morgana said abruptly as they took their leave.

Arthur nodded brusquely and Merlin looked sideways at Gwen. "I'm sure you can trust her," he said quietly. He felt better knowing that the two young women would have each other to confide in tonight. Gwen would share whatever had happened with Lancelot and Morgana could share her own burden with Gwen.

Arthur strode ahead of him, leaving Merlin to catch him in the corridor and match his steps to Arthur's rooms until they stopped outside his door.

"I don't need you to attend me tonight," Arthur said.

It was probably a bad time to push the issue. Arthur had already stretched his limits more than once that night. Merlin turned to walk away, but the memory of Arthur saying "You don't trust me" surfaced with sharp urgency and he turned back again.

"Sire," he said.

Arthur paused with his hand on the latch, his eyes flicking to Merlin warily.

"Sire, I have more to tell you if you wish to hear it."

After a long moment's consideration of his servant, Arthur pushed open the door and gestured to Merlin to precede him through it. Merlin heard the lock click heavily behind him.

"Tell me," said Arthur wearily. Dawn was not yet on the horizon but the night was utterly still, waiting.

"You won't like it," Merlin began, standing up straight but not moving from his position just inside the door, "But I ask you to believe that I have meant every word I have spoken to you. I am loyal to you and to Camelot."

"Magic," Arthur said. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "This is about magic, isn't it? You knew too much, tonight."

Merlin nodded his head once, his eyes fixed on the Prince he served.

Arthur sat down in his chair, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. His voice was leaden. "Go on."

"I was born with magic," Merlin began. "Mum says I called objects to me as a baby. The other villagers were already shunning her for having me and no father to care for us, so she kept even more to herself to hide what I was doing."

"You, not Will," Arthur murmured.

"Will found out when we were about ten. He thought it was great. He used to tease me to prod the pigs with a stick until they were all grumpy and ran around in circles. Or we'd tickle the girls with a feather and watch them squeal and try to figure out what was going on."

Arthur's jaw twisted incredulously. "For _jokes_? You used magic to play jokes?" To one raised as he had been it was clearly inconceivable.

"We were ten!" Merlin spread his hands wide. "And then we were twelve, fourteen - and then we were old enough to do an adult's work, and my power was growing and I didn't know what to do with it! I kept slipping - making silly mistakes - and Mum decided to send me to Gaius, because he was the only person she knew who might be able to help."

Arthur's eyes glinted in the light of the candle set upon the table. His hands came up in an abrupt, aborted gesture. "Hunith sent you to Camelot, knowing that you were a sorcerer? My God, Merlin. Didn't she understand..."

"I nearly set fire to Matthew's barn!" Merlin said, trying to make him understand. "I blew all the washing away in a tornado; they found it halfway to Littleham. She had to do _something_!"

Arthur bit his lip. "You can't stay here," he said flatly. "Clearly you've learned to control your... your _power_ now, and you have to leave."

"Please, Arthur!" At last Merlin dared to approach him, but Arthur looked away from him at the embers of the dying fire in the hearth. Merlin knelt, placing his face between Arthur and the fire, catching his eyes. "Please don't make me go."

Arthur placed one hand over his eyes, rubbing vainly at his forehead.

"Merlin..." He shook his head from side to side, as if unable to find the words. "It's late, Merlin. I can't think now. Go to bed and we'll talk about it in the morning."

"Can I stay here, on the pallet?" Merlin asked. To be separated from Arthur tonight was more than he could bear.

"All right. As long as you lie down on it and for God's sake _don't talk_!"

Merlin nodded obediently and stripped to his undertunic in silence, slipping under the covers of his pallet to lie still. He didn't expect to sleep.

"Close your eyes, Merlin," Arthur ordered, so Merlin did.


	10. The Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promise for the future

Arthur sat by the fire for a long time as Merlin lay quiet, but unsleeping.

"What am I going to do with you, Merlin?" Arthur said wearily. Merlin opened his eyes but the Prince was not looking at him.

"You should have told me," Arthur said to the fire in the hearth. "You're such an _idiot_ , Merlin..."

Merlin bit his lip to keep from speaking, but the lump in his throat was choking him. His traitorous eyes welled with unshed tears.

"For you, Arthur," he grated out. "It's all been for you." And then he turned over to face the wall, pressing the nearest folds of his blanket into his mouth to muffle any noise he might make. He lost track of time, the crackling of the fire and the swirling snow beating against the window the only measure of the passing hours.

He might even have drifted off, because when he was next aware of Arthur, it was of a hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"I don't _understand_ ," Arthur said as Merlin curled around to look at him. His brow was furled in puzzlement, but although Merlin could feel the frustration coming off him in waves, there was no real anger.

"There's nothing to understand," Merlin said, straightening to lie flat on the pallet. "I... I've never really studied magic; I know a hodgepodge of spells and a little bit of the underlying principles but I don't think that any of that ... that sort of _book-learning_ really applies to us. The dragon said that we are two sides of the same coin."

"The dragon _under the castle_? You... _Mer_ lin! No-one is supposed to go down there! There are _guards_!" Arthur broke off with a grimace of resignation. "Right. Later. Two sides of the same coin."

"Yeah," Merlin said. "Like... I was born to protect you, I think."

Arthur sighed and although his brow did not become less furrowed, somehow the weight on his shoulders seemed a little less heavy.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"The druids say you're the King," Merlin said. He could see Arthur's mouth open to protest but he barrelled on, "The one that's going to unite Albion and bring some kind of Golden Age. And they say that I am to help you."

"Well, if the _druids_ say so," Arthur said with weak sarcasm.

Merlin shrugged. "It's not as if I was all that keen at first," he admitted.

Arthur raised unsurprised eyebrows.

"I guess you grew on me," Merlin said. He glanced sideways through his eyelashes at Arthur. "It _must_ be destiny, I've too much sense to let that happen otherwise!"

"Destiny," Arthur said doubtfully. " _You're_ my destiny?"

Merlin peeked up at him. "It could have been Lady Vivian," he pointed out.

Arthur conceded the point with a half-hearted grimace. "You don't actually have a choice about it, then," he said, clearly continuing some train of thought from before.

Merlin caught his breath and sat up abruptly, then moved to kneel at his Prince's feet. Arthur had turned to face the fire, but he looked down at Merlin as he began to speak.

"I wouldn't _choose_ anything else, Arthur. I've gone over this in my head so many times - but that's where it all ends, however I turn it over. I'm yours. My body, my soul, my magic. It's all for you."

Something sharp and bright bloomed behind Arthur's eyes and he caught Merlin's outstretched hand in his, leaning down to pull the other hand in beside it so that both of Merlin's hands were caught between his palms.

"Swear it to me, Merlin. Swear to me by whatever oaths you hold dearest."

"By my mother's life, Arthur, by our friendship and for the good of Camelot, I swear that I give all that I am to you for as long as we both shall live."

Merlin's voice was husky as he said the words.

"This I hear and shall not forget," Arthur said, just as he said to the knights who swore to him. For a long moment they were utterly still, vassal and lord, until with a strange uncertainty Arthur drew Merlin to his feet. Very slowly he leaned forward and pressed his mouth briefly to Merlin's lips. His cheeks were flushed as he drew back and there was something vulnerable in the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his chin.

Merlin looked at him with wide eyes. Knights did not usually receive kisses to the lips. But maybe ...

In the overwhelming, odd intimacy of this evening Merlin yielded to the possibilities. "Do you... um?" he stuttered, his fingers touching lightly to where Arthur's lips had pressed. "Do you want... ?"

The moment shattered as Arthur stepped away hurriedly. "Of course not, Merlin. That would be..." He broke off, flustered. "I mean, I couldn't ask..."

"Oh you are such a prat," Merlin said, a little shakily. He knew where he stood now. "Body, soul, magic. _Everything_."

Arthur looked up in time to see Merlin curl one brave hand around Arthur's bicep, his palm warm and heavy and his fingers a promise for the future. "Everything?"

Merlin nodded. "Because I _want_ to, Arthur."


End file.
